three-thirty a.m.
my oldest’s footsteps. good steps.
intentional steps.
this is not a moon.
this is a lunar eclipse.
(Super-Flower-Blood)
and she’ll be gone soon.
(no early-morning steps).
and i. am. eclipsed.
shadows of loss win
the afternoon shines bright.
(we still have our moon)
recent immigrants
cross the sea to wholly see
how corrupt we are
my girl’s accepted
into her dream universe
filled with stardust, hope
our ski season ends
with bluebird jumps and peak views
(and a pinch of angst)
no real snow day
just a cat and a puzzle
dreaming of travel
reality sits
between aspen dream ski runs
and running a house
i’ll grasp this aspen
framed by its own starry night
when i need some peace
powder power pulls
relentlessly through the snow
bringing us to light
not what i had planned
(before we were so broken)
yet bright, all the same
my little artist
(not so little anymore)
always new designs
creating Christmas
from the tree to ornaments
all hand-made with love
dream school acceptance
in the midst of this nightmare
that’s 2020
what next, i wonder?
how will we survive all this
with all that we face?
the box comes early
before breath has settled us
into this next step
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